


Return

by s_c_writ



Category: Persona 5
Genre: 5+1 Things, Akira is mother hen, Boys In Love, Canon Divergence, M/M, Yusuke is good at wearing a mask, kinda sickfic, metaphorically and literally, non-canon compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-22
Updated: 2018-11-22
Packaged: 2019-08-27 18:45:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16707994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/s_c_writ/pseuds/s_c_writ
Summary: Akira was always taking care of the other Phantom Thieves, especially Yusuke.-or-Five times Akira helped Yusuke, and one time Yusuke helped Akira when it really mattered.





	Return

Akira was always helping Yusuke. Whether it was buying him a meal, helping him find his artistic instinct again, or helping him break the bonds of his abusive sensei, Akira was always there to help.

i. 

Yusuke shakes his head for what feels like the thousandth time, taking a step back from the vulgar boy and beautiful girl.

“No, Madarame-sensei has been nothing but kind to me. He is my mentor, and I would be very appreciative if you all would stop perpetuating these awful rumors.”

“Dude, c’mon!! We already know he’s been takin’ advantage of his--”

“Ryuji, stop.”

Yusuke looks up from his worn-in loafers at the quiet boy’s voice. Honestly, he hadn’t even noticed Kurusu-san before he spoke. Their steely eyes meet, and there’s a gentleness in the curly-haired boy’s gaze and he doesn’t quite know what to make of it.

“We’re not helping here. Let’s leave Kitagawa-san be.”

Yusuke bends into a short, but respectful, bow and watches as the three friends retreat, bemused at the sudden turnaround. His mind wanders for a while, but comes back around to the enigma of Kurusu Akira. He blends into the shadows, but also seems to have silent command over his other two friends, often reining them in when they go too far. An interesting character, indeed.

-

Even after everything that has happened, after seeing the proof of Madarame’s lies and deceit, Yusuke found it nearly impossible to believe. Yet here he was, standing with the Phantom Thieves in his sensei’s “Palace” of distortion. The gaudy decor makes him queasy on top of his exhaustion, contributing to a slight bend in his usually tall stature.

“Welcome to the museum of the master artist Madarame!”

The strange voice makes Yusuke look up in surprise.

“Huh..?”

In front of them stands what can only be described as a nightmare version of his mentor. Clad in what looks to be spun gold, rouged lips, and with glowing gold eyes, the man has a self-satisfied, gloating look on his face.

“Sensei, is that you? That...attire…”

He barely hears Ann beside him, her voice sneering insults at the man he has looked up to for his entire life.

“This...this is all one big lie, isn’t it?”

Some part of him that still hoped against all proof that this was a dream, some fever-induced nightmare, was seared away as soon as the response came from a condescending and hateful voice.

“My usual ragged attire is nothing but an act. Besides, a famous person living in that shack? I have another home...under a mistress’ name, of course.”

Kurusu-san’s voice drowns with the rest of the noise in his head, the screaming that this is all fake, all a nightmare, and the words are lost as his own tumble out without filter.

“If the Sayuri was stolen, why was it in the storage room? And if you had the real one, why make copies?! If it’s really you, Sensei, please tell me!”

Yusuke’s voice breaks, pleading and desperate.

The rest of the conversation is effectively blocked by the roaring in his ears, his brain vehemently denying the truth of what he is learning. At one point, Yusuke falls to his hands and knees, the weight of his agony surely greater than Atlas’. But almost at once, something inside him snaps, and a laugh bubbles up from inside him. He can feel incredulous looks centered on him as he staggers upright, and a single voice cuts through the noise.

“Yusuke, take what is yours.”

Kurusu-san is looking at him knowingly, their eyes locked as something deep within his heart stirs.

_Have you finally come to your senses?_

Agony explodes behind his eyes as the voice and presence gathers in his chest, demanding attention.

_How foolishly you averted your eyes from the truth._

Yusuke whimpers and clutches his head, fingers tugging at his long fringe as if it would release some of the pressure.

_A deplorable imitation, indeed. Best you part with that aspect of yourself!_

Sheer white pain blinds him and he barely registers falling to his knees once more, hands trembling visibly against the ground of this cursed museum.

_Let us now forge a contract. I am thou, thou art I…_

In an effort to stave some of the pain behind his eyes, Yusuke digs his nails into the ground and drags them, leaving a wake of blood stark red against the floor.

_The world is filled with both beauty and vice. It is time you teach people which is which!_

A burst of blue flame surrounds his eyes and he stands, ripping the mask from his face, his voice stronger than he thought it would be as he calls what is forcing its way through his lips.

“Come, Goemon!”

Between the final release of the agonizing pain and the prickling pins and needles that leads to cool air and easier breathing, Yusuke blacks out. He only comes back to himself when a cool hand is placed on his forehead, cracking his eyes open.

“Kurusu-san…”

The raven-haired leader smiles gently at him and breathes a word that makes all his aches leave him, helping him stand. An arm winds around his waist for stability, and Yusuke cannot bring himself to pull away, grateful for the much needed help.

“I think you should call me Akira, Kitagawa-san.”

Yusuke huffs out a breath, stumbling forward a few steps before answering.

“Then I am Yusuke to you.”

Several things rush through his mind at once, but he finally settles on one: gratitude.

“Thank you, Kuru--Akira.”

The answering smile nearly makes him stumble, but he stays upright, letting himself be helped back to the shack he calls home.

 

 

ii. 

Yusuke finds himself once again face to face with Akira, the usual gentle and warm look in their leader’s eyes melting his cold exterior.

“I came to see you, Yusuke.”

After they had finally torn down Madarame’s Palace and taken the Sayuri back from his clutches, Akira had been insistent on spending time with Yusuke at the most odd occasions. He was approached while people-watching in Shibuya Station most times, but the raven-haired boy seemed to appear out of thin air just as often.

The artist merely inclines his head and follows Akira’s lead as they board a train headed for Inokashira Park. Now that he pays attention, Morgana is nowhere to be found, which is strange because of the fact that the cat is always glued to Akira’s side, chattering away and nagging the boy.

“Where is Morgana this afternoon?”

The answering laugh paints beautiful colors in Yusuke’s mind, as does the soft smile he gets with it.

“I asked him to stay with Ann for the day.”

“I see.”

The rest of the train ride is spent in companionable silence, their sides pressed together due to the crowded car. Yusuke’s stomach growls petulantly, but it is easily ignored in favor of watching the other passengers.

Upon arriving at the park, Akira breaks off for a moment, rejoining Yusuke in a moment of contemplation.

“What is your opinion on swans?”

Akira’s voice is laced with amusement as he patiently answers, pressing a bottle of green tea into Yusuke’s hand while he opens his own.

“I suppose they’re elegant in their own way, but they’re very large for birds. Aren’t they supposed to be violent too?”

Yusuke nods contemplatively and stays silent, eyes fixed on the birds floating on the surface of the pond.

“Hey, Yusuke, come over this way.”

A warm hand takes his elbow and gently steers him in the direction of a tree, and the two settle underneath it, Yusuke leaning against the rough bark. There’s a rattling sound next to him, and he looks over just as Akira procures two bentos, handing one over to the taller boy with another smile. Inside is a warm and mild curry that satisfies his hunger, and they sit quietly to eat.

He has always appreciated their leader’s approach at handling more personal matters, such as his finances, or Ryuji’s anger, or Ann’s pining. There’s never a judgmental look, no expectations, just quiet support and good company. Akira has always been his favorite out of the Phantom Thieves, and he doesn’t think that’s an unpopular opinion, judging by the stuffed timetable he has seen a few times.

But never once has Yusuke been made to feel like a burden or an obligation. There is nothing but genuine kindness behind whatever Akira does, a fierce caring that convinces Yusuke to take care of himself a little better than he would were he left to his own devices. It is because of Akira that he tries to spend a little less frivolously and more responsibly, that he sleeps more than he would if he were alone, and that he has just a little bit less hatred for himself and society after everything that has happened to him.

He’s never been judged for his eccentricities, never made to feel like less, like the odd one out. There’s patience with every outburst, every spell of silence, every rant. Akira is observant and quiet, his keen silver eyes catching things most people don’t.

Yusuke is broken out of his reverie by a melon bread being placed into his hands, and he can’t help but smile.

“You remembered…”

It had been a conversation with the other Phantom Thieves, where Ann was lamenting the closing of her favorite sweets shop and asking everyone where she could find the best sweets, and Yusuke had responded that he didn’t care for sweets other than melon bread.

There’s a twinkle in Akira’s eye as he breaks open his own sweet bread, and the artist finally feels the weight of the past few days drift away. He had been stressing about his meals for the next while after having expenses to pay for Kosei, and he knew that he would have to give up his one indulgence of melon bread for at least a month, but here was Akira, somehow one step ahead as always.

They finish their meal as evening begins to fall and they walk back to the train station together, walking a little closer than is strictly necessary.

“Come to Leblanc for the next week or so for dinner. Sojiro always makes too much for the day, and I would be very happy to make sure you were getting properly fed.”

The tips of Yusuke’s ears burn with embarrassment, but he simply nods, and is rewarded with a blinding smile and pat on the shoulder before Akira boards the train for Shibuya and then Yongen-Jaya after that.

 

 

iii. 

“Go home, everyone.”

Akira’s words are met with incredulity, but his word is final. Everyone, including Makoto, leaves eventually, until it’s just Akira and Yusuke left in the accessway at Shibuya Station. The tall, slender artist is unusually pale and withdrawn, and Akira wastes no time in coming to lean on the railing beside him as they look out the window to the pouring rain.

“You should go home too, Yusuke.”

He huffs out a wry laugh that ends with a cough, his shoulders curling in with an attempt to quell the shudders wracking his body. Everyone else was fooled by his acting, but he should have known that Akira wouldn’t be. The boy was more observant than anyone Yusuke had ever met, but he couldn’t find it within himself to be upset.

“You did not have to cancel the dive into Mementos on my account, Akira.”

“I did, because you would have gone and made yourself worse.”

Yusuke doesn’t respond, but he does obediently follow Akira when a guiding hand is placed onto his back. He’s led down the steps and onto a train that takes them to Yongen-Jaya, Morgana blessedly staying silent from where he peers at Yusuke from within Akira’s bag.

The train is shakier than Yusuke remembers, and his balance is tilted so many times that there’s soon a steadying arm around his waist. Without thinking, he sinks into the hold. It’s a testament to how much the flu is affecting his mind that he doesn’t overthink or shrink away from the touch, resting his head against the offered shoulder instead. Akira is a little shorter than him, but still much taller than most Japanese men, so there’s only a little bend in Yusuke’s neck as he relaxes in the embrace for the duration of the train ride.

Once he’s been led into Leblanc and up to the attic that serves as Akira’s bedroom, he’s settled onto the bed before the raven-haired boy disappears for a moment. He returns balancing a cup of tea and mild curry that Yusuke picks at slowly while Akira unpacks from classes that day and puts his things away, Morgana slipping out the window to prowl the neighborhood. As soon as he cannot force himself to eat anymore, a few pills and a fresh glass of water are pressed into his hands instead of the plate and spoon, and he robotically washes them down.

Akira has become more liberal with his gentle touches recently, seeming to understand that they serve as a soothing force for the artist, and now is no exception. In a very intimate gesture, Akira sits next to Yusuke and gently runs a hand down his back before sweeping back up and running it through his ruffled hair. The slim boy shudders slightly, but his eyes slip closed, his body relaxing into the gentle ministrations.

The next thing he knows, Yusuke is waking up the next morning, blessedly a day without classes, with a warm weight pressed to his side. A cursory glance around the room shows Morgana asleep there, and farther down his field of vision, Akira slumped on the couch, breathing evenly. Movement proves to be the wrong choice, as a groan forces its way through his lips as Yusuke tries to raise his head. Within moments, Akira is awake and by his side, pressing a cool hand against his forehead.

“Don’t move around too much. Your fever still hasn’t broken.”

He’s given more medicine as well as another small serving of curry and tea, and Akira remains kneeling by his side, carding a hand through his hair. His eyes are made of silver stars and pure kindness, and Yusuke desperately wishes he could at least once capture them in a painting properly.

Akira smiles shyly, giving away the fact that this was spoken instead of an internal monologue, but with how much his body hurts, Yusuke cannot bring himself to be embarrassed, as long as Akira doesn’t leave.

“I’m not going anywhere, Yusuke. Just rest. You’re safe here.”

Without trying, he obeys, sinking back into fitful sleep with the warm presence beside him.

This process continues throughout the day until the fever finally breaks and Akira grudgingly deems him well enough to return to the Kosei dorms.

Yusuke is accompanied back to his school with Akira at his side with a few prepared meals and the medicine he got from Takemi-san, and he keeps casting worried looks at the taller boy next to him. They finally part when Akira has gotten the artist settled back into his room and tucked the food away.

As Akira is turning to leave, Yusuke feels himself reaching out to catch his wrist. Akira turns with a curious look, and is pulled into a tight hug, chapped lips being pressed shyly against his cheek, and then Yusuke is on his bed, laying down, and Akira leaves, closing the door quietly behind him. There’s a blush high on his cheeks and a smile on his lips the entire way back to Leblanc.

 

iv. 

Futaba’s Palace has proved to be most difficult for the entire team, but especially Yusuke. The unrelenting heat has worn down his usually impressive stamina, and most of the Shadows had something to do with fire, so he was constantly on his ass with the wind knocked out of him, clothes singed.

They were about halfway through the hellish construction when they finally found another safe room and piled inside. Everyone collapsed onto a chair or bench except Yusuke. He stayed by the door, leaning heavily against the wall. He knew that if he sat down, it would be extraordinarily hard to get back up and continue.

He hadn’t realized that his eyes had slipped closed until he opened them after feeling a presence next to him. Akira’s silver eyes peered at him from behind his mask, lips a thin white line. The Phantom Thieves are all aware that Akira prefers to finish each Palace within the first few days of finding it in order to leave enough time to deal with any potential error or fallback that may come afterwards, but he never pushes them too far.

Now, Akira’s eyes were searching, and they held each other’s gaze for a solid few minutes as the team chattered on around them.

Finally, the leader breaks the eye contact and looks down at their hands. He fishes something out of his pocket, and Yusuke’s breath hitches slightly when he sees what it is. Held carefully in the red leather of Akira’s glove is a dark metal ring with a pulsing red ruby set into it. Akira very gently takes off Yusuke’s right glove and slides the ring onto his middle finger, humming quietly when it’s a perfect fit. The glove goes back on, and Yusuke can feel the heat around him dim slightly, becoming less oppressive from the magic set into the stone.

Next to come out of Akira’s deep pocket is a small capsule of liquid that Yusuke recognizes as coming from Takemi-san’s clinic. He hands it over to the blue-haired boy, who sluggishly swallows its contents, slumping forward to rest his head on Akira’s shoulder, mask pushed up on top of his head. A gloved hand smooths down his side and stops at his waist, curling around it gently.

“I’m sorry..”

Their leader’s voice is barely audible, even with his lips next to Yusuke’s ear.

“Just one more section and I promise we’ll call it for the day. Can you manage that?”

There’s a nearly imperceptible nod, and Akira turns his head so that his nose is pressed into blue hair, their bodies entirely too close for how warm the surrounding air is. Neither of them are worried about the responses from their teammates, as they’re all very used to the two of them having their quiet moments ever since they got together after Kaneshiro’s Palace.

Finally, when Yusuke feels strong enough to properly fight and stand on his own, they pull apart without a word and continue step out of the Safe Room, Akira flanked by Ryuji and Yusuke. Ann, Makoto, and Morgana taking up the back to watch behind.

Yusuke watches as Akira flits from room to room, figuring out puzzles, wiping out enemies, and revealing even more about Sakura Futaba’s horrifying past with raw strength and unbelievable stamina. 

They’re stalking behind a particularly strong Shadow for a while when from behind, there’s a yelp, and the team turns around.

Morgana is being held by the scruff by an impossibly large hand coming from a sarcophagus, and the Phantom Thieves instinctually leap into a defensive position. The Shadow summons reinforcements, and soon, they’re fighting tooth and nail to stay up. Makoto is rapidly healing Ryuji and Akira as they fight with their melee weapons and Persona’s physical attacks, and Yusuke is dealing with the smaller shadows with Kamu Susano-o, but they’re all growing weary.

Yusuke is just whirling around with his katana to deal the final blow to a Naga when a bolt of lightning sears through his body, causing him to cry out and crumple, shuddering every few moments when a jolt races through his nerves.

He barely manages to hang onto consciousness as he hears an agonized shout and a blinding light of an Almighty attack blankets his vision before silence falls except for footfalls rushing towards him, and a skidding as someone falls to their knees next to him.

“Fox??? Yusuke??”

Akira’s voice is trembling, and Yusuke wishes he could speak or reach up to him to comfort him, but he’s paralyzed, still shuddering from the lightning strike.

The leader of the Phantom Thieves summons a gentle-looking Persona that heals Yusuke and relieves him of his shock, every last slice and bruise vanishing from his skin, and he’s soon able to sit up, just as Akira pulls him into his arms.

“Let’s keep going, as long as all the Shadows are gone and everyone’s okay.”

Akira nods, and they make quick work of the last bit of this section, hurrying into the following Safe Room. Yusuke feels eyes on him constantly, being sure to nod reassuringly at Akira and staying silent when he’s healed to his peak even after just tripping by accident.

Every enemy after that has fire attacks, but Yusuke barely feels them, thanks to the weight and power of the ring Akira had slipped on his finger underneath his glove. When they’ve finally made it out of the Metaverse, not two minutes have passed when a cold green tea is put into his hand, and Akira presses against his side comfortingly.

 

 

v.

Yusuke has lost his inspiration. Nothing he paints is good enough, none of his sketches turn out quite right, and everything is too dull and too wrong, and too bland. Inspiration that he thought he had gotten from watching others turned out to be false and useless, just the same as what he had gotten from trying to study flowers while Akira was at work, preparing bouquets for strangers.

He is angry at the world. He’s upset and frustrated that every time something good happens to him and his friends, something equally horrible happens. He’s furious that Akira has so much responsibility by being the Wild Card, as he’d been told Igor called him, and he’s deeply sorrowed by the fact that the society around them has seemed to collapse into corruption. 

All this anger is doing nothing pent up, so he sends a quick text to Akira, asking if they could go into Mementos together, just the two of them, so he can study the distortion of humanity from within, and within two minutes, he has an affirmative response. Yusuke takes his bag and heads out, barely making it to Shibuya Station as Akira steps off the train. They’re both quiet as they step into the Metaverse, but Akira hands him a few Devil Fruits to hold onto as they go into the depths.

Being surrounded by humanity’s anger seems to do the job, and his own subsides, completely dwarfed by the sheer magnitude of distortion of how far down they are. They’re in one of the Safe Areas of Adyeshach, and Akira has stepped back to let Yusuke think, the latter staring off at the working tracks across from their own path.

Yusuke finds his eyes drawn back to Akira, the quiet boy shifting occasionally, silver eyes glinting in the low light of Mementos.

Suddenly, as if physically struck, something comes to Yusuke. He fumbles for his sketchpad and begins to furiously draw, emotions pouring out onto the page. The only reason he pauses is because Akira quietly tells him that evening will be falling soon and they shouldn’t stay any longer. Once back into the real world, his surroundings don’t register until he’s locked away in his dorm room at Kosei, paint splattered across his front as he works deep into the night and morning.

After he finally deems the work complete, Yusuke steps back to assess. A couple tweaks and added strokes later, and he’s collapsing into his bed to sleep. Nothing wakes him up for the following twelve hours, not even his alarms for his classes, but he gets the rest he needs, free of any dreams or distractions.

The next day brings a peace within himself that he finds a little strange, but not unwelcome. He submits his now-dry painting after signing it and cleans up his space, scrubbing paint off the floor and out of some of his clothes before heading over to Leblanc, where he knows Akira will be shortly. Sojiro greets him quietly, Futaba greets him loudly, and he heads upstairs quickly, settling on Akira’s bed to wait, eyes tracing the rafters and dust floating between them.

Quiet steps on the stairs alert him to Akira’s approaching presence, and he sits up. A warm smile greets him when the raven-haired boy comes within sight, and Yusuke can’t help but smile back, greeting him with a soft kiss to his cheek.

“Did our trip down work then?”

“Better than I could have hoped. I have submitted my work for review, and it will likely be hanging in a gallery soon.”

“I can’t wait to go see it.”

Yusuke’s smile is soft, his heart thudding calmly in his chest as he listens to Akira recount his day of classes and Ryuji and Ann’s shenanigans. His Persona practically purrs within him when Akira holds his hand as they leave Leblanc to get sushi for dinner, and he finds himself ultimately content in the moment.

-

Yusuke gazes at the wall, finally pleased with his handiwork and the response it has gotten from his peers as well as respected professionals that have passed by it. His good mood is only enhanced when a familiar body comes to stand beside him, their arms barely pressed together.

“What did you name it?”

The painting is filled with swirls of grey anger and frustration, black fury and sorrow, red distortion and greed. It comes to a head right in the center of the canvas, where color explodes from a single point, the colors of love, excitement, joy, passion.

“ _Desire and Hope._ ”

Yusuke reaches over and carefully laces their fingers together, hoping that Akira understands. Judging by the tight squeeze of his hand, he does, and they stand gazing at it for many long moments before Yusuke guides them to view the other works displayed.

People analyzing the painting for years down the road cannot understand quite that the center point of white within the color isn’t something internal--it’s the external existence of one new muse that reminds Yusuke of the beautiful things in the world even as the horrific things continue to happen around them.

 

 

i. 

There’s no other way to describe how Akira feels other than numb. He knew this day was coming, but he had tried his best to put off thinking about it until now. His body feels awkward and wrong, nowhere near the lithe grace he’s exhibited for this past year in Tokyo.

After having said his goodbyes to all his friends and receiving some absolutely wonderful gifts, it’s time for Akira to head to Shibuya Station for the last time in the foreseeable future. He didn’t know if his parents would allow him out of Inaba after he comes back, and that unknown is tearing him up inside.

He steps into Station Square for a moment, looking up at the skyscrapers and the swathes of sky visible between them, the cold seeping into his veins. The neon lights from the ads reflect in his glasses, and with a final sigh, Akira looks down, only to feel a warm arm slide around his waist, lips pressing to his hair.

“You know, you do not actually have to go…”

Akira slumps into the hold, a wry laugh escaping before he can catch it.

“I am serious, Akira… Futaba and Sojiro have spoken to your parents, and they’ve agreed to let you finish at Shujin Academy.”

He looks up sharply, meeting Yusuke’s grey eyes with his own.

“You should go back, but only to retrieve more of your personal aspects from home, but we have that covered.”

Ahead, Akira looks to see an old van, stuffed to the brim with his friends. Makoto is in the driver’s seat, a reserved and shy smile on her face, and the others are all shouting and waving in their direction. The arm is removed from his waist, but there’s a hand in his, fingers lacing together.

“How much convincing did it take Sojiro?”

“I merely mentioned it once, and it was settled the next day. You underestimate how much everyone needs you here. No, how much we want you here.”

“And you?”

“It is more of a need for me.. I could not bear to see you go, even for a short while.”

Akira chuckles wetly, the cold in his veins being chased away by the warmth at his side.

“Then I suppose we should go pick up the rest of my stuff.”

“That we should.”

They clamber into the van, Akira in the middle of the backseat, flanked by Ryuji and Yusuke, Morgana sitting up straight in his lap. He gives a soft smile, and then they’re off, leaving Tokyo for the countryside, but not forever.

**Author's Note:**

> Hihi I'm learning to write this pairing and WOW I love them. I also just love Akira with pretty much everyone, but that's how he was written oops. If there's any feedback you have, please let me know, as I would be very excited to read it!! Thank you so much for reading <3 This will likely be edited later on as I develop my writing for these two, so if you're into that, check back later!!!


End file.
